


the most wonderful time

by amonkeysue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Snow, Winter, as always canon can fight me, in several aspects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amonkeysue/pseuds/amonkeysue
Summary: A twelve day Clintasha fic countdown to Christmas, each fic is winter and/or Christmas themed.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 22
Kudos: 55





	1. Cold Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally figured out that "The Twelve Days of Clintnat" fits really well with the song and decided that twelve fics would fit a lot better into my schedule over 24/25, and here we are! This is definitely a bit of a self-indulgent little project but who doesn't like more Clintasha fic? :)  
> Hope you enjoy!

“Perimeter remains clear,” Clint called as he walked back into the safe house. “Any word from Coulson?” he added on while pulling off his gloves.

“As far as he can gather we’re probably in the clear, but sticking low here for another night or two won’t hurt.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “He gave a polite warning to be considerate with the house.”

Clint whistled as he shrugged off his coat and jacket. “We didn’t make that much of a mess in Manila. Nothing like the off the record safe houses…”

He walked around the entry corner into the living room in time to catch Natasha’s purposeful eye roll. “Barton,” she scolded, her voice sterner than her expression.

“Just saying, if he really wants to talk about messing up a safe house, we know the tricks.” He added a wink as he finished, unable to keep from smirking with it.

She didn’t bother fighting back a smile in response. “Yes, but this way we allow him some plausible deniability.”

Clint shrugged as he walked over to sit beside her on the couch. “I’m still convinced Fury’s just waiting for the right moment to call me into the office for some kind of ‘treat her right’ spiel.”

“He’s not – Clint!” Natasha’s shoulders immediately protectively hunched up as he casually put his hand across the back of her neck. “Did you even wear gloves out there?” she loudly complained while starting to shift away from him.

“What?” he asked, feigning complete innocence with a barely restrained grin. “I was just out in negative temperatures with the wind chill, but eh, we’ve been through worse.”

She lightly shoved her elbow into his side. “I’m not dealing with your frozen hands right now.”

“You can help me warm up.” He maintained the demeanor of innocence, almost coyly blinking at her.

“We have an actual fireplace right over there.” Natasha grabbed his wrist and twisted away. “I’ll be nice this once and get you a hot chocolate.” She let go of his wrist and started over to the kitchen.

Clint leaned his head against the back of the couch to watch her walk away. “Sorry, and thank you,” he loudly said.

She barely glanced back. “You’ll be forgiven when you’re warm.”

He helpfully moved to sit closer to the fireplace, holding his hands out to the flames for several minutes before working his boots off and effectively sticking all his limbs out in the direction of the fire.

Natasha snorted as she walked back into the living room with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in each hand. “You look ridiculous.”

Clint grinned back at her. “Maybe, but I could make it weirder, be on my back like an upside-down turtle.”

“Sometimes I forget just how bad you can be at comparisons,” she said with an eye roll while sitting down beside him and holding out his mug. “I went light on the marshmallows.”

“Thank you again.” Clint put his feet down and gingerly accepted the mug, blowing across the surface of the hot chocolate before taking a tentative sip. “Ooh, that’s good.”

“As though it’s a surprise that I know your food preferences,” Natasha remarked while reaching to rest her free hand at the base of his neck.

He leaned into the touch with a content sound. “You’re the best. Straight up fact.”

“Thank you for the praise.” She took a few sips of her hot chocolate before commenting, “And you’re already volunteering for the next perimeter check, right?”

Clint chuckled. “Yeah, I saw that one coming.”


	2. Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back to some early relationship days here!

As they stepped out of the bookstore Clint tentatively reached for Natasha’s hand.

They were still figuring out the transition from ‘close partners’ to ‘lovers’ and all the different situations they were in accordingly. The relative anonymity of being in public had him hoping the contact would be okay, but it was her call to make.

She laced her fingers through his without glancing over. “Anything else you think we need?”

“Mmm, I think that’s the last of it. Maybe just a snack from the bodega on the way back?” He casually scanned the faces and bodies of everyone they walked past, instinctively cataloguing body language.

No one was paying them in mind, always a good thing. Not that he was expecting anything, but SHIELD 101 and life had certainly taught him that days off weren’t always so calm.

“You really just want a snack?” Natasha asked with a hint of amusement, also subtly scanning their surroundings.

Spy habits die hard, as their version of the saying went.

He clicked his tongue. “Okay, a good sandwich is a nice snack? And you know that their chicken parm is fucking amazing.”

She lightly squeezed his hand while making an affirmative hum. “Let’s call it dinner.”

They dodged around an icy patch on the sidewalk at Natasha’s prompting while rounding a corner.

“Pick up dinner and dessert?” He grinned. “Movie and ice cream?”

“That’d be nice,” she agreed with a little sideways nod.

Clint suddenly slipped with a yelp and Natasha immediately let go of his hand as he went down.

“Hey,” he complained after catching his breath for a second, “you’re really just gonna do me dirty and let me go down like that?”

A corner of her mouth quirked up in a smirk as she looked down at him. “And let you take me down with you? I don’t think so.” She slightly held up her shopping bag. “I’ve got the important stuff.”

“I’m okay, for the record. Probably just bruised.”

“That’s not unusual,” Natasha lightly teased.

“Aww, Nat.”

She extended her hand to him while warning, “Pull me down with you and there will be consequences.”

“I know.” He took her hand to help pull himself up, breaking into another grin. “Guess I just keep on falling for you.”

Natasha groaned but smiled at him anyways. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I think about that every day.” He kept his tone light, his expression serious and affectionate.

She slightly swung their hands between them as they walked back to her apartment.


	3. Ice Skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for a prompt from Determined_Overthinker for some ice skating!

She made stepping onto the ice graceful unto itself, perfectly balanced on the skates and easily starting into forward movement towards the center of the rink.

In the meanwhile, Clint was grateful that Natasha wasn’t looking back at him while he cautiously took his first step onto the ice, keeping one hand on the wall just in case.

His other hand tingled across the palm, immediately bringing back the vaguely uncomfortable memory of a childhood fall and accidental slice from the skates. Which, as a grown man, really shouldn’t continue to make him nervous about ice skating, and yet there he was.

If it wouldn’t have been for the way Natasha had ever so subtly lit up when Coulson suggested ice skating as a partnership development activity (as he still insisted on calling them despite Clint’s ribbing about how “doesn’t the SHIELD handbook say something about PDA at work?”), Clint would have turned the whole idea down.

Not like he had anything but remnants of childhood concerns against it, just that it wasn’t how he had ever pictured spending a Thursday morning at SHIELD.

Clint tentatively took his hand from directly off the wall and leaned into going forward and somewhat relaxed when he managed an easy foot of distance.

Okay, this could be better than he remembered it being.

Natasha turned around in the middle of the rink to skate back towards him, barely raising an eyebrow at him while she stopped a little less than a foot beside him. “I would have guessed you had some skating experience when you agreed to this.”

“I do have some experience, it’s just from a long time ago.” Clint arched an eyebrow right back at her. “That obvious?”

“If you liked skating I imagine you would have gotten further than two feet from the wall by now.”

He made a noncommittal sound before nodding in her direction. “I wouldn’t have pinned you to have much skating experience either, but you’re zipping around pretty easily.”

Her expression went thoughtful despite the guarded note that had clearly entered. “I wouldn’t say that I have experience beyond childhood either, but it’s not as though it’s particularly difficult to skate.”

“Yeah…”

“Back straight, eyes up so you’re not driving yourself into a fall and arms out a little to help you balance. Focus on using the blades of the skates.” Natasha started to demonstrate as she spoke. “Push off and glide in even strokes.” Again, she skated forward to the center of the rink before turning around to him.

Clint slowly nodded. “Right, you just push. Nice and easy.”

“Here.” Natasha extended a hand for him to hold. “Match me.”

He imitated Natasha as she led him step by step through the basic movement, building up his confidence into navigating further than roughly arm’s length of the perimeter wall. With Clint feeling comfortable, they spent a while holding hands between them and skating in line with each other in wide sweeps of the rink.

“Synchronous movement and trust exercises, Coulson always knows what he’s doing,” Clint amusedly commented after several tries of working on stops without a little flailing to maintain balance at the end.

“You don’t get into Coulson’s position without knowing what you’re doing.”

“Do you know any easy skating tricks? I’d love to see his face if we jokingly tell him we decided we had the chemistry to be ice dancers and will now be pursuing that instead of being SHIELD agents.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but he was learning to catch the almost imperceptible upward turn of a corner of her mouth. (Seeing her personality come out was something he honestly felt gifted to see.) “I doubt he would find it funny.”

“After we explain he definitely would.”

Natasha pursed her lips before replying. “Drop the plan of telling Coulson and I might be able to remember a spin.”

Clint grinned from ear to ear. “Deal.”


	4. Snowball Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring some other Avengers and Morgan making a brief appearance for this chapter since I needed a reason for a snowball fight, haha.

“Okay, this looks bad,” Clint sighed while he briefly leaned against the tree he was using for cover, closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he looked down to his right at Morgan. “I promise I’m going to get you back to your dad as quick as I can, okay?”

She somberly nodded back at him. “Be careful, Uncle Clint.”

“I always am.” He knelt and scooped up some of the snow at his feet, adeptly forming it into a neat ball and loading a few in hand before nodding at Morgan. “You’ve got your ammo?”

She held up a snowball in each hand. “I’m all ready.”

Clint peeked out around the tree, catching Rhodey nail Steve in the back of a neck with a snowball as he attempted to run across the field. “Looks like Rhodes is in a good position to give some cover fire, I’ll get your other side. Just run to the fort on the count of three.” He directly locked eyes with Morgan. “One, two, THREE!”

They burst from the trees together, Clint scanning the surrounding snowbanks for any sign of anyone trying to pop up and surprise them.

‘Snowball fight capture the flag tag’ was all Morgan’s idea and had been an easy sell despite the moderately confusing rules it entailed. Everyone was willing to support her, it was an easy excuse to mess around in the snow for some, and it appealed to everyone’s competitive side.

Not to mention that they could arguably count it as a team building exercise.

Rhodey threw a snowball at someone behind them, followed by an annoyed sigh from Sam as it smacked into his chest.

One more person down from the other team. He knew Wanda had already been hit, potentially leaving only Vision and Natasha left standing.

He and Morgan were halfway across the field to the snow fort Tony was protecting. All they had to do was get the flag tucked in Morgan’s pocket inside the fort and their team would win the round.

“Keep on going, you’re almost there!” Rhodey supportively called from behind.

In a flash of red against black on white, Natasha appeared from over the nearby snowbank. Moving to cut Morgan off, she first attempted to trip Clint.

He grabbed her wrist and leaned into the resulting stumble, bringing her tumbling down with him.

“We’re going to win,” he teased while they both tried to roll into being on top of the other, each of them all too familiar with how the other was trying to pin them down.

“Technically there’s nothing in the rules about Vision using camouflage powers,” Natasha commented as she grabbed his wrist with her free hand, simultaneously trying to yank her own wrist out of his grip. She laughed as Clint groaned. “Always count the opposition, Barton.”

“I was,” he grumbled, “I was just hoping Thor might’ve gotten Vis and that we weren’t exploiting Morgan’s incidental loopholes.”

“She’s still having fun.” Natasha hooked a foot around the back of his knee and arched up to leverage him onto his back.

He huffed as she quickly shifted to hold him down, simultaneously adjusting to hold his hand instead of his wrist. “What happened to maybe playing nice and letting her win anyhow?”

“We at least have to make it believable, and,” Natasha smirked, “that was before you chose the opposite side from me.”

Clint raised both eyebrows. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”

“Occasionally I’m competitive.”

“Competitive means pinning me out of view of everyone else behind a snowbank? Not that that’s a problem, just wondering if you did this on purpose or-.”

He stopped as she cut him off with a kiss, both of them content to draw it out for several moments before she pulled back by a matter of inches at the sound of Tony happily exclaiming, “That’s my girl!”

“Looks like you won after all,” Natasha coyly said, making no move to let Clint up.

He grinned at her. “The Hawk never misses, right?” Before she could reply he let go of her wrist and brushed an errant curl back under her hat. “I figure we’ve got, what, another good thirty seconds before they start yelling for us?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Contrarian,” Clint teased in a murmur while Natasha ducked back to kiss him.

Fifteen seconds later she pulled back and started moving off of him, keeping a hold of his hand to help him back onto his feet. “Next round I’m aiming for you first.”

“…Should I ask if you have PG intentions?”

“For now,” Natasha said with a side wink. She started traipsing back up the side of the snowbank, still holding his hand. “I figure we can warm up after this.”

Clint almost shyly ducked his chin and chuckled. “I’m game.”

“And if you lose on purpose…” Her sly smile was practically audible.

“Oh,” he laughed, “that’s not happening. We’re playing this fair and square.”

She gave his hand a squeeze as they came back over the snowbank. “Don’t be surprised when I take you down again, Barton.”


	5. Christmas Lights

Natasha sleepily stretched, reaching out for where he lay on the bed beside her. “Clint?”

“Mmm?” he tiredly asked while starting to flip over to face her.

They had both practically collapsed into the bed the night before after getting through all the immediate paperwork and reporting post-extraction from a mission gone annoyingly sideways.

She was careful with her movements, keenly aware of how they both were inevitably aching in spots from the aspects of the mission gone wrong. “I hate to disappoint,” she murmured, “but I might have to crush your light viewing dreams for a date. I don’t want to leave the apartment today.”

“Yeah…” He made a groaning sound. “Yesterday was a few too many bumps and bruises for anything but taking it easy today.” After a moment’s pause he broke into a little smile and tucked back a loose chunk of her hair behind her ear. “And you know a little light show doesn’t equal you.”

“Still.” She gently brushed her fingers along his ribs over his sleep shirt, glancing down for a second. “I know you were letting yourself get a little excited for this.”

“Eh, there’s always next year.” He teasingly grinned. “And a day in bed with you is always the top choice over other things.”

Natasha smiled and shifted her hand to rest against his chest. “All day isn’t feasible.”

“It’s still a lot easier to carefully cuddle around bruises in bed rather than the couch.” Clint propped his head up against one hand, his elbow bent beneath him. “At least spend the morning in bed? I’ll quickly throw together breakfast and grab your book,” he eagerly suggested.

She shifted up to quickly kiss him. “That sounds nice.”

True to intention, they spent almost all morning in bed, content to hold each other aside from Natasha reading while Clint braided her hair and started tinkering with some arrow adjustment ideas.

After lunch she convinced him into quickly running to the closest bodega for some dinner shopping while she stayed in the apartment.

They cooked and got around to filling out their mission reports before deciding to take it easy for the rest of the night.

“I have a surprise for you,” Natasha proudly announced as they headed back into the bedroom. “Just close your eyes for a second.”

Clint immediately obliged, even waving a hand in front of his face for added effect and easily catching the amused little huff she gave at the antic. “Should I step inside?”

“In a moment.” She slipped past him through the doorway, pushing him slightly aside with a hand on the hip before she was inside the room.

He heard the click of a plug going into the wall socket and broke into a laugh. “Aww, Nat. You did lights just for me?”

“Look for yourself,” she lightly said, knowingly smiling at Clint while he opened his eyes and grinned at the sight.

Multiple strings of Christmas lights lined the upper edges of the room, arranged in a bunting pattern and set to slowly fade successively in and out.

“Did I really have this many lights in the decorating box?” he asked with amazement.

“Apparently.”

“Huh. Never woulda guessed.” Clint looked away from the lights to pull Natasha in towards him, murmuring a soft “Thank you” into a kiss.

She ran a hand through the back of his hair and affectionately smiled. “It’s nowhere near professional, but…”

“It’s perfect,” he finished. “And being in bed with you is better than being in the cold with you anyhow.”

Natasha tipped her head back as she laughed before prompting another kiss of several moments. “I love you, Clint.”

“I know,” he contently hummed back. “And not to sound like a cheesy romantic right now-.”

Amusement glittered in her eyes. “Which you are.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I entirely am for you, but anyhow, that thing we didn’t get to do in Melbourne and I said I’d make it up to you? I still owe you that dance and with a little music this is a very fittingly romantic backdrop.”

She took a half step back so she could slip one hand up to his shoulder, waiting to slip her other through his while he fished out his phone from a pants pocket. “One of your slow songs or something classical?” she prompted with a knowing smirk.

“Power ballads, baby,” he gleefully said. Clint scrolled through something on his phone and started the beginning piano chords of Journey’s “Faithfully” before setting the phone down speaker side up on the bed and taking Natasha’s hand in his. “Is singing along too much?”

“Maybe.”

They started out with a simple stepping pattern before gradually moving closer and edging into a simple sway as Natasha leaned her head against his shoulder, Clint resting his head against hers.

He pressed a little kiss to her forehead as the song finished and shifted to the next one in his power ballads playlist. “I love you more than words and I don’t want to miss a thing.”

“You’re funny,” she drily commented, but didn’t hide her according smile.

“Can’t take back that you love me.”

“No,” she agreed, “I’m standing by choosing you.”

“And I’m forever yours.”

“If you keep on turning power ballads into love puns I will go to bed instead.”

He chuckled into her hair and stayed otherwise quiet while pulling her closer, Natasha closing her eyes as they swayed.

It was a good night.


	6. Tree Farm

Thanks to the fact that Natasha’s right arm was still in a sling and that it would only help to have Clint around to help her out with the ins and outs of day to day life, they had time off around Christmas.

To avoid the risk of Clint getting called in on any last-minute missions, they had opted to fly out to the Iowa safehouse.

The morning of the twenty third, he broached his idea for the afternoon over his mug of coffee. “Since we’re here for a bit I was thinking about checking out that Christmas tree farm just a little past town?”

She questioningly arched an eyebrow at him through a sip of her own coffee. “As in a ‘cut your own tree’ farm?”

“Mmhmm, I figure we’ve got the time and the farmhouse for it, and then decorating could be nice. I think there’s still a box of the holiday decorations somewhere.” His gaze briefly went distant, lost in some childhood memories.

Natasha was no stranger to how redoing the old Barton farmhouse after Barney had left it to Clint and using it for their own purposes was useful for moving past the last of the lingering negative memories. Even if she would have been inclined to be hesitant about celebrating the holiday with him, it was more than enough reason to decide to agree.

With some double checking that he was entirely thinking about the details first.

“Is maneuvering one of those around a one-person job?” She didn’t need to hold up her sling bound arm to accentuate the point. “I can only help so much.”

“A smaller tree should be fine.” He nodded towards the living room. “I was thinking of having it in front of the windows, should look nice and all with the lights. And the truck should be running fine for transportation.”

Natasha nodded. “We can try a tree.”

Later that afternoon, she immediately broke into laughter as he came back downstairs in his tree cutting outfit. It was stereotypical lumberjack in almost every sense, a red checkered flannel thrown on over his shirt and jeans, paired with sturdy work boots and a beanie she had knit him the year before.

Clint sheepishly smiled and held a hand up to rub the back of his head. “I know, I probably should have grabbed a different flannel but it just felt right…”

She’d be lying not to admit that she loved how he always shifted to consistent flannels and jeans when they were at the farmhouse. They definitely worked on Clint.

“You look good,” she reassured, stepping over and resting a hand against his arm as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Aww, Nat, you know you don’t have to say that.”

“I mean it.” She appreciatively raked her eyes over his body with a sly smile. “But we’ll elaborate on that once we’re back.”

He grinned. “Ooh, the things looking at me like you want to eat me up does to me…”

“Tree first, Barton,” she pointedly said with a knowing smirk.

Clint grabbed her hand as they started outside for the truck. “Yes ma’am.”

To and from the tree farm, he dramatically sang along to the radio as they drove, eliciting amused eye rolls from Natasha. At the tree farm, with some brief discussion they quickly found a suitable tree and Clint loaded it up with a bit of obligatory help from the farm staff.

Back at the house he relatively easily maneuvered the tree into the living room. The flannel came off as he steadied the tree, and Natasha made no effort to hide the way she was getting distracted by his arm muscles as she watched from the couch.

“I think decorating can wait,” she coyly said once he took a step back, satisfied that the tree wasn’t moving any further without his help.

“Yeah.” He smiled at her while coming over to support himself over her into a kiss, unsurprised as she curled her left hand into his shirt to keep him close. “I’d have to go get the box anyhow and I am supposed to be right around to help you,” he teased.

“Guess you had better stay right here,” she hummed before prompting another kiss, holding him there as he shifted to accommodate her right arm and her position on the couch.

They only pulled back from each other when they needed to catch their breath, grinning at each other while they gasped.

“’M guessing you want the shirt gone?” Clint asked after a second with a little laugh.

Natasha slipped her left hand under his shirt to help him take it off. “Merry Christmas to me,” she murmured with a wry smile.


	7. Cuddle for Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based off a prompt from Determined_Overthinker for a "STRIKE Team Delta mission gone wrong somewhere cold and they have to huddle for warmth", hopefully I did it some justice!

The two men didn’t even try to hide that they were directly following her through the ballroom.

Rounding the corner first, Natasha took the second to activate her comm. “I’ve been made. Not sure who they’re with.”

“Shit. Are we calling it?”

“I think there’s still a chance of getting the mark outside, but we have a tight window. Stay on target, Barton.”

“Copy that.”

The plan had been for her to lure the mark outside the party, where Clint would then take him down and SHIELD could bring him in. Clean and easy, like they’d done plenty of times before.

Were it not for the mystery men tailing her, they could’ve had a nice evening out of it.

Keeping her expression even, Natasha internally swore as she saw the mark’s bodyguard frowning and leaning down to whisper in the mark’s ear, a hand on his upper arm to prompt him to move. A half second later, the bodyguard looked up directly at her, simultaneously reaching inside their suitcoat.

Experience had her recognizing to take cover under the nearest side table as the bodyguard fired two shots at her.

The other partygoers screamed and started to duck under tables or run towards the room’s various exits, at least providing something for the two men who had made her to fight through while Natasha oriented against the bodyguard and them.

“Widow?” Concern bled through Clint’s voice over the comm. “I hear screaming.”

“Get your ass in here, Hawkeye, we’ve been blown,” she lowly said back while pulling out the Glock she had snuck in under her dress (and with a little distracting the security guards, but still). “Side waiting room, I’m taking fire.”

“On it.” 

She carefully glanced around the table, firing towards the two mystery men as they tried to approach and seeing the bodyguard pull the mark away down the far hallway.

Definitely could have been a better night.

“You’re all alone!” one of the men called to her. “Stand down!”

Curiosity won out over staying silent as she shot back while shifting to better cover and closer to an exit. “And who are you with?”

Her only answer was more shots.

“Any of those security guards in there?” Clint tightly asked over the comm. From his breathing, he was actively running.

“Not yet.”

He exhaled, the sound coming over with a touch of static. “Found one dead.” His voice went slightly soft. “Be careful.”

“You too.” Natasha looked around the edge of the loveseat she had crouched behind, figuring that the men would have to take a second to reload based on a guess of what they could be firing. While they were distracted, she caught one of them hunched over in view and fired a Widow’s Bite at him.

He tensed with a little “hurk!” sound before crumpling down.

A responding shot from the other man came a little too close for comfort, followed by a shot by the other side of the couch.

She hadn’t exactly come with her normal stock of ammo and was starting to run low, and the mystery man would have enough time to shoot her with the open space she was left with to any exit from the room. Nothing bulletproof on her, only Clint coming as backup.

“Hawkeye, status update?” she tensely murmured into her comm.

“I’ve gotcha.”

The man made a surprised exclamation of pain as an arrow thudded into the shoulder of his dominant arm from the other entry off the ballroom.

Natasha didn’t need any prompting to take advantage of the moment of distraction to pick her way over to Clint, keeping behind tables and couches as much as she could as he aimed another arrow at the man, waiting for any movement other than clutching at the shoulder.

She barely brushed against him to signal Clint to step back with her, leaving the man groaning in pain behind them.

“Anything else to know?” she asked as they hurried through the now empty ballroom.

“The snow’s coming early and it’s looking a little more intense than originally predicted.” Clint paused as they both scanned either way down the hallway outside the ballroom doors. “I was told they might not be able to get a Quinjet through.”

“Mmm.” Natasha frowned as they started into the lobby. “Everyone’s gone.”

“Way too fast,” he agreed with a matching frown.

A small object rolled with a tinkling sound towards the middle of the lobby.

Clint was already moving to help shield Natasha as they both rushed to get away from the area, making it to the back of the coat check area before the grenade exploded.

It was a small enough blast that nothing directly hit them over their coat cover, but brought a haze of smoke to the area.

They tensed up at the sound of multiple bootsteps and the vague sight of lasers through the smoke.

“Think they went over there,” someone called.

Natasha yanked down the closest coat and pulled it on before wordlessly pointing to the back of the coat check area.

Clint nodded and helped her fully back up to her feet, both of them keeping their weapon at the ready while hurrying towards the exit.

They tried to open the door as little as necessary and close it behind them as quickly as they could, hoping not to disturb the smoke inside or let too much of the freezing air indicate where they had gone.

No one fired at them as they came out or shouted any alarm. 

“Guessing the car’s a no go if they’ve got a whole team of people available with grenades,” Clint murmured as they picked their way across the snowy ground, alert to every possible movement and sound around them. He darkly chuckled. “Didn’t make a backup plan for this in the middle of fucking winter in fucking Helsinki.”

“Could be colder,” she drily remarked.

“We gotta find something secure fast, you’re going to freeze in that dress.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’ve dealt with worse, Barton.” Her voice was quiet.

Always something new to learn about Natasha, he idly reflected.

He took a second to look back and catch her eye. “Doesn’t mean you should still have to.”

“If we’re lucky, they don’t seem to be concerned with the pr-.”

“I’ve got footsteps in the courtyard!” someone loudly called out from back by the door they had taken.

Natasha and Clint simultaneously swore under their breath and picked up their pace to find somewhere they weren’t directly leading to with footprints and could temporarily shelter in.

It took an hour of careful back and forth around the apparent team of their mystery assailants, taking a couple of them down along the way before they made their way off the grounds and into what they figured to be a secure enough location.

She didn’t bother to hide a shiver when they were satisfied with the results of their perimeter check and finally settled down.

The building technically had heating, but they weren’t turning anything on much more than was already running to err on the side of caution. They were confident that they had lost any tails and that the snowstorm outside was enough to keep from too much searching, but it also meant they were on their own for the night. Extraction couldn’t make it in until the morning, and while SHIELD was looking for leads on who the mystery assailants were, everyone was left to guessing.

Clint shrugged off his coat and put it around Natasha, pulling her in against him. “I could’ve done the check myself, y’know,” he murmured while he wrapped his arms around her. “Give you some time to warm up because god, you’re freezing.”

“It was better to do it together,” she murmured back while prompting him to sit with her, tucking her legs underneath the coat and leaning in against him. “Now I’m not worried that you missed anything out of concern for me and we can focus on warming up.”

“I appreciate the confidence in my skills,” he wryly remarked.

Natasha tipped her head against his shoulder. “It hasn’t been a predictable night.”

“Haven’t had a mission go this bad in a long time.”

“Disadvantaged and outnumbered is a bad combination,” she agreed in a hum.

He slowly worked on rubbing warmth back into her body. “Just don’t start paradoxical undressing, please, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Mmm, I still feel cold enough that I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Natasha unapologetically slipped her hands into the layer between his remaining jacket and shirt. “And thanks for the concern.”

“No ‘I’m Russian’ quip?” he asked, voice lighthearted but expression discerning.

“Only about the Winter War.”

A little chuckle slipped out of Clint. “I’d rather not.” They were both quiet for several moments before he asked, “Getting any better?”

She nodded, barely moving her head against his shoulder. “Slowly.”

“Here.” He started to unzip his jacket. “Between the coats and this we should be able to kinda do a makeshift sleeping bag, get you cocooned up.”

“You make me sound so fragile,” Natasha complained.

“Just want to get you back from shivering.”

They quickly arranged and tucked the coats and jacket into an effective pocket before again tightly holding to each other.

She kept her head in the crook of his shoulder while Clint took out her hair pins with one hand so it could cover her neck once freed. “I’m lucky you stay so warm,” she commented as she contently closed her eyes.

“For your sake and mine,” he agreed, a note of fervency to his voice. After a minute of comfortable silence he adjusted his hands on her back. “Nat?”

She opened her eyes. “Hmm?”

“I think we should take some vacation for a few days somewhere nice and warm after this. Tropical, maybe.”

“That’d be nice,” she agreed, a yawn escaping her as she finished.

Clint ducked to kiss the top of her head. “You know I’ll be wide awake at the first sound of anything going wrong, and it’s sure as hell been a tiring night. And if hypothermia hits I’ll get you to medical care ASAP, mysterious assailants and snowstorm be damned.”

“Don’t let me sleep for too long,” Natasha said after another yawn.

“I won’t,” he promised as she curled up against him. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”


	8. Lucky in the Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking some creative liberties with Lucky and Liho into MCU-like verse :)

Lucky wove between their legs and jumped into the nearest pile of snow with an excited pant, his tail wagging all the way.

Clint brightly laughed even as he shied away from the clump of snow Lucky accidentally sent flinging back at him as he dove through the pile. “Hey, watch where you’re wagging that stuff, bud.”

“Is Lucky supposed to have your aiming ability?” Natasha wryly asked from where she stood by Clint, holding his hand between them.

“If he did we would _definitely_ be working on training him for some field work.” Clint’s eyes widened, his expression entirely lighting up in delight. “Can you imagine? Lucky the Hawkdog, could dress him up with a mask and vest to match me. Maybe recycle that old tac suit design I never could get approved.”

“I’m imagining,” she said, balancing the dry and teasing notes in her voice. “And I don’t see you as the sidekick type.”

He lightly bumped her side with their hands. “Just the partner type?”

Natasha nodded. “Something like that.” As she spoke she leaned in against Clint’s side, effectively wrapping her arm around his in the process.

They contently watched Lucky bound about in the snow for several moments until he ran back to them, eagerly looking up at them with another little pant.

Clint slightly leaned down to scratch behind his ears, Natasha loosening her arm around his as he shifted. “Yeah, I hear ya, bud. You want mom and dad to play with you.”

A little laugh slipped out of Natasha. “You love calling us his parents way too much.”

“It’s accurate. Lucky and Liho round us out into our little immediate family of sorts.” Clint clicked his tongue. “If Liho actually liked snow too we could have had a full family outing, but…”

She pointedly arched a brow at him. “We already know that Liho likes me better.”

He whistled and feigned hurt in his expression. “Ouch.”

Natasha unapologetically shrugged. “We’re allowed to know favorites.”

“Double ouch.”

“As though Lucky doesn’t have you wrapped around his tail,” she teased, simultaneously crouching down to also scratch Lucky behind the ears. “You could convince him into anything, huh?”

Lucky barked and eagerly wagged his tail at her before nudging Clint’s knee with his nose.

“I hear you,” he laughed. “You wanna chase a snowball around?”

They played until Lucky seemed to be tiring of being in the snow, prompting them to return home just as tiny flakes started falling, picking up as they walked.

Under a streetlight a couple blocks from the apartment Clint impulsively tugged Natasha closer.

She went with it, resting her other hand on his shoulder with another eyebrow raise. “Yes, Clint?”

“I’m feeling romantic and this snow under the light is very cinematic.”

Natasha rolled her eyes with a smile. “You and your movies.”

“You still love me,” he said with a grin.

“I do.”

They wordlessly leaned closer into a kiss, soft and affectionate as they held each other closer, conscious of Lucky contently slipping in between their legs. After several moments Natasha pulled back, briefly pressing her forehead to his.

“I know,” he sighed, “we should get back home to Liho.”

“She likes you too, Barton.”

“She just likes to be difficult with me sometimes.”

“We all take after each other,” Natasha wryly commented with a little laugh as she prompted Clint back to walking, Lucky quickly starting off with them again. “And I think we all would like to get back home for now.”

He laced his fingers through hers. “Home is good.”


	9. The Nutcracker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from Determined_Overthinker, "Watching the Nutcracker together."

Extended leave meant free time, which had both of them searching for activities to occupy themselves with beyond their normal plans.

Stumbling across a poster advertising the local ballet performing The Nutcracker made an easy decision for Natasha, and Clint was all too happy to go with the idea.

Not least of all because it gave them an excuse to dress up a little outside of a mission.

Clint always wore a suit well, and Natasha opted for a simple grey and blue dress that paired nicely with a favorite dress coat.

He appreciatively waggled his eyebrows at her as she stepped out of the apartment bathroom after applying her lipstick. “You look good.”

“Only good?” she teased back with a small pout.

Clint laughed as he brought over her coat and helped her slip it on, murmuring, “Nah, you look fucking amazing. And I really want to kiss you right now but you’ve just got lipstick…”

“After,” she reassured with a smirk, shifting to adjust his tie knot before resting both hands against his chest over the suit jacket. “You can wait through a ballet.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he lightheartedly quipped before offering her his arm to hold. “But shall we?”

They had managed to snag a good view of the stage, and Clint smiled to himself as he noted Natasha watching the foot movements of the dancers as they went into the March of the Toy Soldiers.

Ballet was one of those interests that Natasha was always careful with, definitely continually fascinated but sometimes almost avoiding. Not that he could fault her at all for that, not knowing whether your fond ballet memories were actually yours inevitably brought a whole slew of according emotions with it.

Enjoying ballet through performance was a good middle ground.

They watched with rapt attention through the fight of the mice and the nutcracker’s soldiers, and Clint leaned in close to whisper in Natasha’s ear midway through Clara and the nutcracker’s dance. “Romantic, isn’t it?”

Without looking away from the stage she brought a finger up to his lips to wordlessly shush him.

She continued to keep an eye on the footwork and arm positions through the Dance of the Snowflakes and all the presented sweets of the kingdom, everyone gracefully twirling and dancing around in exquisite costumes.

Even though it was maybe a little cliché, Clint felt pretty enchanted with the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. You just didn’t get a song like that and a dance like that every day.

Somehow comfortably managing despite the arm rest in between and the general seat arrangement, Natasha leaned over on Clint during the final waltz, her arm wrapped around his while she held his hand.

As the curtains closed she angled up to quietly speak into his ear. “That was perfect.”

“We should do this more often. Support the local arts and all that.”

“Especially if we’re going to start getting more time off.”

They were all too happy to make it to the next production the ballet held.


	10. Cookies and Mistletoe

“Set it for 350 degrees,” Natasha told Clint over her shoulder, barely glancing back at him.

“Copy that. And chips are incoming.” He turned the knob for the oven to the appropriate temperature before bringing a bag of chocolate chips to where she was stirring up a batch of cookie dough. “And we’re visually measuring this, right?” he asked while starting to angle the bag up over the mixing bowl.

She cast him a side smile. “It’s your recipe.”

Clint grinned back. “Thank you.” He went for a generous helping of the chocolate chips, only pausing for Natasha to stir in half of it before adding the rest. “These are gonna be so good.”

“They’re cookies like usual.”

“Yeah, but it’s Christmas cookies.” He wrapped his arms around her waist from the side and ducked at an angle to press a quick kiss to her neck. “With you, same place, same time.”

“Ever the romantic,” she freely teased him.

“You’re easy to be head over heels for, Nat,” he hummed back before pressing another kiss to her neck as she helpfully tilted her head for him. “And you’ve got me hook, line, and sinker.” Clint went for another kiss.

“Hey.” Natasha stopped stirring to bump his cheek with the back of her hand, careful to keep from hitting him with the spoon. “Stay on target, you need to scoop them out.”

“Copy that,” Clint repeated with a little sigh as he pulled back. “Whadaya think, four by four?”

She looked over the cookie sheets with a judging frown. “Mmm, three by four with the full-size scooper. Four by four if you do the little one with adjustment as needed.”

“Eh, we want the big ones.”

Natasha stepped aside to give him full access to the cookie dough, slightly leaning on the counter and cabinets behind her as she watched him scoop and lay out cookies. “And we’re agreed that there’s no way we’re keeping all of these, right?”

Clint nodded. “Yep, half for us, and half for the bosses.” He chuckled. “Really hope we get to see Fury’s face. That’d be a Christmas present all by itself.”

“We already know chocolate chip is his favorite.”

“A by the book choice for a not always by the book man.”

The corners of Natasha’s mouth quirked up. “And that’s why we’re probably not giving them in person.”

He feigned hurt. “Aww, babe.”

“Maria should have a good reaction too.”

“Yeah,” he said with an excited grin. As Natasha took the first finished cookie sheet from him he added, “Twelve minutes.”

They stuck to switching off on tasks as they went through baking up all the cookie dough (aside from the bits they each openly took from the bowl) and opted to leave them for a few hours on the cooling racks before bagging the extra cookies up.

Clint made a thoughtful sound as he pulled the milk out of the fridge for their own use. “Wait just a second, I have something romantic I was planning on in the bedroom.”

Natasha cast him an amused look. “That’s especially vague.”

He winked. “Probably not what you’re expecting, but still.”

“Let me know when you’re done.”

He handed her the milk before walking to the bedroom, hurrying back out after a few moments to grab tape from their supply drawer, his expression slightly sheepish. “It’s not that weird, I promise.”

“I’m starting to wonder,” she drily teased.

“I know.” After a few moments of Natasha obligingly focusing away from anything happening in the bedroom while pouring out two glasses of milk, Clint leaned out from inside the doorway. “It’s ready when you are.”

She set the milk back into the fridge before following him over to the doorway. “Surprise me.”

“Maybe.” Clint couldn’t help but grin. “Look up.”

Natasha broke into an immediate laugh and reached to slip her arms up around his neck to pull herself to him. “Mistletoe.”

He gave a half shrug, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Guess we gotta make out.”

“Guess we gotta,” she agreed in a murmur, leaning up into a kiss.


	11. Matching Pajamas

Clint threw a couple rubber banded bundles of clothing onto the bed beside Natasha from the doorway while casually commenting, “Hey, look what I found.”

She questioningly arched a brow and stuck her book aside before picking up one of the bundles, easily catching the ‘Barton’ and ‘Romanoff’ post-it notes individually stuck to each. “Tony’s handwriting.” She shifted the rubber bands off, a pair of pajama pants falling into her lap as she held up the matching pajama top. “Hmm, he really decided to make matching Avengers pajamas?” Faint amusement lined her voice.

“I know, right?” Clint sat on the edge of the bed beside her and reached across for his own labelled bundle, pulling it open. “Found them while doing a tower security system check.”

“Snooping,” she corrected with a knowing smile.

He dramatically frowned. “JARVIS let me test the system, it’s not snooping. That was only a secondary motivation.” Clint held up his pajama top. “And aren’t you glad I found it? I don’t know if it’s thoughtful or concerning that Tony decided to deck out his adult teammates in matching team logo pajamas.”

“As long as he isn’t trying to plan a PR team photoshoot with these…” Natasha smoothed over the pajamas in her lap. “But to give him some credit, it’s right in line with Tony’s brand of thoughtfulness. A little heavy handed, but he cares.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean we have to let him give them to us.”

Natasha teasingly smiled. “You can admit that you don’t hate them. I’m not going to tell.”

He noncommittally hummed and set his pajamas down. “It could be a little awkward to put them back, so I guess we have to keep them now. And whether we use them or not… no one else has to know. Just us.”

She reached over to affectionately ruffle the back of his hair. “And you can admit that you know they’ll look good on you.”

“That’s what happens when my exact measurements are used. All your favorite parts get framed,” Clint replied with a grin.

Natasha started to retract her hand, rolling her eyes with the motion. “Not your best analogy.”

“I’ll come up with something better by the time we wear them.”

(He did not have a better analogy, but they did have to admit that they were exceptionally comfortable pajamas, definitely worth getting a lot of use out of.)


	12. Undercover Couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from Determined_Overthinker, "Undercover couple for Christmas/NYE"  
> Definitely leaning a little into the cheesy here :)

“Oh no,” Natasha groaned as Clint brought her drink over with a grin.

He tossed his head to make the bell on his elf hat jingle, somehow grinning wider. “They were giving them out, how could I say no?”

“Easily.” She reached over to straighten the hat despite her complaint, brushing aside an errant chunk of his hair under the brim in the motion. “You look ridiculous.”

“I’m maintaining cover,” Clint unapologetically claimed. Looking casual, he glanced back towards their corner of interest while slipping across from Natasha at their table. “Did I miss anything?”

They were following Jason and Miranda Porter, trying to find solid evidence that they were arranging a weapons deal with a few former SHIELD agents who had taken some 0-8-4s and had been notoriously difficult to track down.

“Neither of them are talking into her purse for the phone bug, and they’re cuddling obnoxiously enough that even their security is starting to look away.”

Clint amusedly huffed. “That’s annoying on a few levels, but it could be useful.”

“Could be,” she agreed, sipping at her drink as she finished. “I still think our best bet may be when they head back to their room.”

“Whadaya think, play it tipsy or friendly Midwesterner?”

Natasha slightly leaned closer to him across the table with a smile. “Depends on how long before they do decide they need to be behind closed doors. Until then, we can sell being the Johnsons.”

She set her hand on his, and it genuinely made his heart jump for a second. This particular mission had sounded a lot easier in practice rather than theory after his slow realization over the previous several months that he was probably falling in love with her. As long as he could just stay casual enough, it hopefully wouldn’t be an interruption, but that was starting to get more and more complicated.

Clearing his throat to steady himself after the hand touch wasn’t doing great at the ‘casual’, but he could only do so much under the circumstances. “Cheers to that.”

He was fully aware of her subtly fixing him with a questioning look, but they both hid it well enough while drinking in almost perfect unison.

“Something you want to say?” she prompted after several quiet moments.

“It’d take us off track.”

“You’re telling me later, Barton.”

It was easier to smile rather than show any signs of anxiety for that particular conversation. “Over better food than whatever these hors d’oeuvres are supposed to be. Gourmet’s got nothing on quality some places.”

She rolled her eyes and looked like she was about to give an accordingly sarcastic reply before nudging his knee with hers under the table, her eyes suddenly calculating. “They’re moving,” she murmured. “Do the friendly Midwesterner.”

“Yes ma’am,” Clint said with a wink while pushing back from the table, moving as if to head for the bar before doing the universal overly exaggerated ‘stop and look thoughtful about changing directions’ move towards the exit the couple they were following was starting for.

Natasha did smile to herself as she worked on finishing up her drink, imagining the scene Clint was causing in the hall. He tended to play up an enthusiastic hello with the traditional smile before breaking out the handshake and diving into an exceptionally charming conversation.

And she had to admit that the hat was probably only helping him.

She didn’t bother trying to hide her smile when Clint did walk back towards their table after several minutes, figuring that if questioned about it she could claim maintaining their cover.

“Bugged the watch and found a commonality about visiting good ‘ole Riverside, Iowa.”

“They’re Trekkies?”

“Only casually, or at least they didn’t try to go any deeper than I know past the Vulcan salute and episodes from med bay stays.” Clint again pointedly tossed his head to get the bell to jingle on the hat. “But now we can leave some of the listening to the techs and actually enjoy a bit of a Christmas Eve for ourselves.”

“Mmm, is this what you’d normally do?” Natasha leaned forward on the table as she spoke, something akin to amusement dancing in her eyes.

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Normally I try to get a mission over Christmas and all, it’s easier to have something to focus on rather than sitting alone. But if I am off then yeah, kinda. I go find something I’m not going to be by myself doing. Not necessarily with drinks, but these are definitely an upgrade from the usual.” Clint arched a brow at her. “Two years into this partnership and we’re only now asking what we each do for Christmas?”

“We’ve either been separate directions or too busy the relevant days, and you’re a lot more concerned about the holiday than I am.”

“Another round of little drinks and then we get back to business?” he prompted with a smile.

“Don’t forget the budget,” Natasha knowingly teased.

Clint chuckled. “Aww, Nat. It was one time.”

“Accounting would like to differ.”

“We don’t talk about the other times.” He pushed back from the table. “I’m good 99% of the time.”

“Ninety-eight,” she corrected with a wry smile. “And aside from you I still have a perfect record with Accounting, I do have an investment in keeping that.”

“Hold on, we’re talking about this once I’m back with drinks.”

Discussion of the advantages of keeping on Accounting’s good side were interrupted by a call from the SHIELD techs assigned to listening in on their bugs telling them to tune in.

It was amazing sometimes how easily people could implicate themselves, but it made for a restless night as they coordinated with an incoming SHIELD team how to set up to trap the rogue agents and retrieve the 0-8-4s at their meeting the following day.

Clint and Natasha were flying back after successfully taking in the agents with the 0-8-4s and stopping the Porters from waltzing away by the time Christmas was halfway done.

She leaned on his shoulder in the back of the Quinjet. “Merry Christmas, Clint.”

“Merry Chr- wait.” Careful not to overly budge her, Clint sat up a little straighter and reached into one of his pants pockets. “I got you something.” He was glad she wasn’t directly looking at him as his cheeks flushed a shade. “Uh, here you go.”

Natasha undid the ribbon around the box he gave her and flipped open the jewelry box inside to reveal a silver arrow necklace.

“Clint…”

His cheeks went red. “If you don’t like it-.”

“No,” she quickly said, cutting him off, “I do.” She twisted around to look at him, directly meeting his gaze. “We’re partners and it’s a very sweet gesture.” After a moment’s hesitation and with almost uncharacteristic anxiety she added on, “And if there’s anything more than our SHIELD partnership behind it…”

He swallowed. “… Is that asking or warning me not to say?”

“Asking.”

“Not to sound like a middle schooler but I really like you, Nat,” Clint blurted out.

She let relief filter across her expression. “Good, since I wouldn’t wear my feelings quite so obviously for anyone else.”

Clint blinked for a second before breaking into a giddy grin. “Really?”

Natasha quietly laughed. “Really,” she reassured before holding up the necklace and turning her back to Clint. “Help me put it on?”

“Mmhmm.” His hands were thankfully as steady as ever as he clasped the necklace on. “Merry Christmas, Nat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who enjoyed on the way and another huge thanks to Determined_Overthinker for the prompts!


End file.
